


Cutting Loose

by vktorkatsuki (ayna222)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cutting Edge AU, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ice Skating, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, pair skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9259412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayna222/pseuds/vktorkatsuki
Summary: After being pulled out from the Grand Prix Series by his concerned coach, Victor Nikiforov gets another chance to compete. The catch? He's going to have to go for gold as pair skater Yuuri Katsuki's partner. Still, how hard could it be? Victor knows he's good, and it's not like this shy little piggy's particularly talented, or distractingly good looking and incredibly sweet...fuck.Pretty loosely based off the 1992 film "The Cutting Edge"





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re joking, you’ve got to be joking, please tell me you’re joking!” cried Victor, standing from his seat in front of his coach’s desk. The skater ran a hand through his long, silver locks as he paced quickly across the floor of the office. Back and forth, back and forth, Yakov followed the movements with his eyes. _Ugh_ _, here we go..._

Yakov sighed, massaging his temples a bit—not that the headache named “Victor Nikiforov” could be cured by the efforts of one mortal—and replied, “Vitya after all these years you should know that I never joke. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re working yourself too hard. Your body’s not as strong as it used to be. If you continue at the rate you’re going you’re going to tear every muscle in your body three times before your next birthday! And for what? It’s plain to anyone with eyes that you’re starting to lose your drive. All those damn ‘sports bloggers’ are going on about is when to expect your retirement!”

Victor seemed not to have heard, since he just continued mumbling—or at least, trying to (emotions had this pesky tendency of getting in the way of sensory awareness). “Taking me out of skating? What does that accomplish? He must be going senile; I knew this day would come but I didn’t expect to see it so soon!” _Ok, that’s quite enough of that,_ Yakov thought as cleared his throat pointedly. Victor stopped suddenly and turned to face his coach, hair flying into his face with the force of his momentum. He wouldn’t be standing still for long.

Yakov could swear he felt a vein bulging in his forehead. Sure, the kid was good, incredible even, but they honestly weren’t paying him enough to deal with his moods. “My decision on the matter is final, Victor. I want to you take time to _rest_ and remember why you chose this life for yourself. Trust me, if I thought you were washed up I’d drop you. But you have so much more to _give,_ Vitya. It’s not time for you to go home for good. Besides, I’m only taking you out of the upcoming Grand Prix Series. You’ll be back for the ISU Championships.” _Honestly, you’d think he was telling the kid he’d never skate again._

“Those are _ages_ from now, Yakov! What about my fitness? I’ll lose my edge!” Victor groaned as he slouched into his seat once more, crossing one elegant leg over another.

“That’s why the nutritionist and I are coming up with a regimented workout and meal plan for you, and you’ll of course be continuing with ballet— _don’t give me that look!_ ” Yakov scolded, unfazed by Victor’s glare (which frankly made him look more like a pouty poodle than a threatening presence), “You know for a fact that your step sequences are not nearly where they should be, and so do your competitors! There’s no _music_ in your performance!” Even Victor knew when he was beat. Yakov continued, “The gap between your score and the silver medal winners’ was ten points! _Ten points_ ! You _can’t_ keep banking on your technical score to pull you through to the top!”

“It's worked so far, hasn’t it?” Victor said desperately, leaning forward to place his hands on the edge of Yakov’s desk. “I’m sure now that I have a quad flip down, no one will be able to come close!”

Yakov leaned back in his seat, praying to God, to Jesus, to _whomever_ that his words would start sinking in sometime soon, “And what will happen after that, huh? You’ll work on your quad lutz, land that, and _still_ be falling behind on your PCS. Judges are starting to take notice, you know.”

Victor’s hands had moved to clasp one another in a silent entreaty. “Yakov, Yakov _please._ You can’t do this. If you take away my reason for living, what do I have left? Nothing! Nothing at all!” Victor's body language spoke of utter composure, but his shaking left leg told a story clearer than any words could convey.

“And you don’t have a problem with that? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you and the other skaters treat each other. You skate like Hercules on his quest for immortality, and you act like you’ve been the god of ice since birth!” Yakov paused, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what had to come next if were to have any hope of saving his skater from hypothermia of the soul. “I’m seriously concerned about the state of your mental health, _Viten—_ ”

“Fine! We’ll do it _your_ way!” interrupted Victor. He flipped his hair back before continuing, revealing shiny eyes. “But I get to control where, when, and how I train. I’m still going to get time on the ice every day, I’m going to eat what makes me feel good, and I’m _not_ taking ballet lessons, especially not with that Дурак you’ve hired now that Lilia’s gone!”

Yakov let out another sigh at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. It had only been a few months since the split, and the sound still left him chilly, which is saying something considering he spent most of his time in an ice rink. He considered making an argument, but figured it would be better to just get the whole thing over and done with. It had taken him long enough to get Victor to agree. “Fine. I agree to nearly all of those terms, but I still think you need to take ballet lessons. I agree that you’re already too advanced for the new hire, so I’m going to let you find a new instructor with whom you work more effectively. I expect to see a final plan on my desk by Monday at the latest. That’s three days, Victor. Now get out and start putting yourself back together!” Victor made his way out of Yakov’s office, dramatic mumbling about “the unfairness of it all” in full force. “Oh, and Victor?”

The skater paused, hand on the doorknob, and afforded his coach a glance over one shoulder. “Дa?”

“I’m not sorry.”

Victor curled his lip into something could’ve been called a sad smile if the viewer were wearing a particularly thick pair of rose-tinted glasses and stalked out. Yakov relaxed in his seat. That had gone about as well as expected, but Victor had never even pretended to listen to his freely given advice, let alone his demands, when it came to his precious skating. Still, the poor man was spending hours at the rink working himself into a skater shaped shell. Soon, there would be nothing left of the sweet child who had slipped and knocked him over the first time he stepped out onto the rink but a husk left to grow bitter with age. Yakov was not about to lose one of his own to that fate. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and glanced over to the telephone he kept on his desk. He had a lot of calls to make.

 

* * *

 

Back in Yakov’s office, Victor hadn’t known whether to flush with anger or to stiffen with fear. Now, his icy aura was freezing his body from the heart out. Honestly, what the _fuck_ was his coach thinking? How could he be expected to take a break _now_ when he was on the verge of winning his second Grand Prix Final? How did that make any _sense_ ? Had all logic escaped this universe, leaving him the sudden victim of Fate’s depraved games? Well, if it had, it had shitty timing that’s for sure. Suddenly, Victor found himself desperate to get back home to cuddle his dear Makkachin. _Honestly Yakov, it’s not like I have_ no _friends,_ he thought as he rounded the corner at a near sprint, his vision blurring around the corners. The fact that one of the deepest and most meaningful relationships in his life was with an animal was of little consequence.

“Эй! Watch it Victor!” _Oops_. He looked up, charming smile and apology at his lips only to see no one there. What. A quick peek downward and the problem was solved.

“Oh, sorry Yuri! I didn’t see you there!” Not that he was to blame, the novice must have been the shortest thirteen-year-old to ever grace the ice. Yuri let out an indignant sound.

“What, cause I’m too short or something? Please, like you weren’t a skinny shrimp when you were my age—oh don’t protest; I’ve seen the pictures of your Juniors debut.” Victor gaped at him. The sheer levels of disrespect! They were over 9000!? “Anyway, I was hoping to run into you before you left, though I didn’t mean it this literally.” Yuri muttered the last bit under his breath, as if scolding the universe for its unnecessary cruelty. Heh, like the universe wasn’t too busy screwing Victor over—

“Oй! Where’s your head at?” Victor came back to earth, a little chastened and a lot shaken by a sudden kick to the stomach. “Were you even listening to me?” He grabbed a well-worn charming smile from his closet of facial expressions, threw it on, and began his usual routine.

“Of course! What did you need from me, Yura?” Yuri grumbled a little at the pet name before steeling himself. Uh oh. _Here it comes..._

“Will you help me choreograph my junior debut?” _Yup, there it is._ Nooo, the little хам was giving him puppy dog eyes too; this was going to be unbearable.

“Yura, normally I’d say yes. You know that. How many times have I shown you a quad salchow when Yakov wasn’t watching?”

“But?”

“But no, I can’t do it.” Yuri’s eyes started to well up a little at the corners. _Shitshitshit—_

“But _why?_ You can’t be threatened by me this early in the game! I never pegged you for a selfish asshole, Victor Nikiforov!” Even though he was sniffling, there was a fire in his eyes that Victor couldn’t help but respect. Victor put up his hands in what he hoped looked more like a placating gesture and less like a symbol of utter surrender.

“Ah, Yuri, I never said I wouldn’t! If I could, I would. But I can’t.”

“What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean you _moron_?” Damn, for a tween this kid was terrifying.

“I should have a word with Mila about what constitutes _appropriate_ language for a thirteen-year-old” Victor muttered under his breath, before continuing. “What I mean, is, well, can you keep a secret?” Yuri leaned in, eager to get some dirt before anyone else knew. Good. Victor was banking on Yuri’s inner gossip’s showing its true colors. “I’ve been cut from the Grand Prix Series.”

“…what.”

“I know, I know it’s stupid—“

“What?”

“—but Yakov is insisting—“

“ _WHAT?”_ Victor put a hand over Yuri’s mouth.

“Not so loud! I don’t want the whole team knowing before I _have_ to tell them! Yuri slapped the older skater’s hand away before continuing more softly.

“What is that old coot thinking? Taking you out now could be taking you out for good! And right before your second Grand Prix—did the divorce make him snap?”

“You know, there’s a thought—“

“And what about the rest of us? How are we supposed to be training like normal when our _star skater_ isn’t here to show us what to work towards?” Victor felt he might have been a bad person for feeling so good about someone else’s pain, but honestly he was taking what he could get at this point.

“But Yuri, you don’t need me! You’re an incredible skater just on your own! How many competitors know how to do a quad going into their junior debut?”

“You! You did!”

“You’ll be fine, Yura. Great even. I’m looking forward to watching you beat the crap out of everyone in your division. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Yakov gave me three days to get all of my affairs in order, so I should really be going.” With that, Victor continued on his way. He let out a sigh as he entered the locker rooms. He could feel Yuri practically vibrating in place behind him; he probably shouldn’t have told him anything. _God damn it Victor, why is it always the puppy dog eyes with you? Oh well. Everyone was bound to find out somehow,_ he thought as he gathered up his things. He finally managed to escape the rink, and started on towards his St. Petersburg apartment.

As he listened to the cawing of the gulls, the whirlpool of emotions in his soul finally began to calm. Still, Victor took the stairs up to his apartment door two at a time. As soon as his key hit the lock, he heard the scratching of adorable paws with adorable claws destroying his hardwood. He opened the door and was promptly tackled by a soft brown blur. “Papa missed you, Makkachin!” he exclaimed as he snuggled the poodle. Holding the massive dog in one hand, and his bag of gear in the other, he squeezed his way home, dumping everything—including himself—onto his couch in one go. He shrugged off his already half unzipped warm-up. _Finally,_ he thought, as he pulled Makka close to him. Sure enough, as Victor pressed his face into his fur, the tears that he had been holding in since the initial meeting with Yakov began to slip down his cheeks. _Curse my stupid wet feelings_ he thought, _but what am I supposed to do now?_ His cries turn into small giggles as Makkachin began to lick the tears off his face. “Ah, Makka that tickles! Down, boy! Down!” He knew it was no use; he rarely saw the poodle anymore, so their first full interaction was usually a long snuggle session. _No one knows how to make me feel better quite like you, Makkuchka,_ he thought as he pulled the dog as close to him as he could. There would be time to worry about filling the black hole in his soul later. Right now, he was home. With a smile on his face and tears drying on his cheeks, Victor lay back on his couch and drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

An insistent buzzing pulled Victor from his doze. _God, what is that racket?_ he thought as he grabbed at his sports bag. He groped blindly through until he found what he was looking for. Took long enough, since his furry brown blanket refused to stop drooling on his face. And why did Apple have to make these stupid iPhone 5s so much bigger than the old ones? They felt so weird and _tall_. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbows and answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’m looking for Victor Nikiforov.” The voice was unfamiliar, feminine, and authoritative. And talking in _English,_ ugh. He tried to switch languages in his brain, but the gears kept slipping. Not for the first time, he regretted dropping his English lessons at the rink.

“Um, speaking?”

“My name is Minako Okukawa, you can call me Minako. I’m an old friend of Lilia’s.” Ah, yes. He’d heard Lilia mention a dancer friend of hers a few times. She must have been incredible; even the frigid former prima ballerina couldn’t find a fault in her technique. “I hear you’re in the market for a new ballet instructor, and from the looks of it, a new skating career.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” exclaimed Victor, flailing a little. Makkachin fell off the couch with a yelp. Victor winced. _My poor baby..._

“Pardon my French, but cut the shit Victor. Yakov called me. I know that you’ve been taken out of the Grand Prix Series. Don’t worry, I kept things discrete. Of course, you constantly have to watch what you say here what with that nosy, Twitter obsessed junior skater hanging around...”

“...Who are you again?”

“I told you, my name is Minako; pay attention! Now, how would you react if I told you I could get you back into the Grand Prix series.”

Victor sat up straighter. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve made arrangements for you to come to Detroit to train with me. I work alongside Celestino Cialdani, international figure skating coach, and we’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“What do you mean?” And what exactly did pickles have to do with it? _Stupid idioms._

“I’m talking about Yuuri Katsuki, Junior pair skating champion. You may have heard of him.” Victor had in fact _not_ heard of this Yuuri Katsuki. He rarely paid attention to skaters outside of his division, and only gave those who were enough time of day to analyze and capitalize on their technical weaknesses. “Anyway, his partner, Yuuko, recently left the competitive skating world so that she could spend more time with her husband and kids. Right before their Senior debut, too. As you can see, this leaves us with a bit of a dilemma.” Victor stifled a groan. He could see where this was going but just to confirm...

“Ah, excuse me, but where do I fit in?”

“Cutting to the chase, are we? I like that. Long story short, we want you to be Yuuri’s new partner.” _Yuuri’s partner?_ thought Victor as he gaped. _But I’m not a pair skater! I’ve always been alone._ He ignored the small voice in his head that added “utterly, desperately lonely.” _And what if this Katsuki kid ends up hating me, and I get kicked off the ice? Then I’ll have gotten my hopes up for nothing!_

“Victor?”

“Look, Ms. Milano—“

“ _MINAKO!”_

“—I’m honored that you thought of me, but I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Oh, really now?” Victor started at the sudden vitriol, almost missing the rest of Minako’s sentence. “What, too difficult for you? Don’t want to admit that you can’t play well with others? No, I get it, you’re afraid that you’ll embarrass yourself skating beside Yuuri!” ...was this woman serious?

“Please, prancing around on the ice like that is child’s play. Anyone could do it. Pick me, Yuuri will find himself far outshone by his partner.” A little false bravado never hurt anyone.

“Well, come on down here and prove it!” came Minako’s reply, not a second later.

“Fine, I will!”

“Excellent, Victor, good talk. Celestino and I will be expecting you on Monday. Don't worry, we’ve cleared everything with Yakov. He thinks this will be a nice change of pace for you. After all, you did demand daily time on the ice, didn’t you? And I really think that you’re going to work well with Yuuri. He may not seem like much when you meet him, but he’s got this quiet intensity to him which I think will contrast your confidence brilliantly—”

“Wait, did I just—?”

“It’s called reverse psychology, sweetheart. Maybe check your caller ID before you pick up your phone after a nap next time. Then again, even if you were more awake this conversation probably would have gone in the same direction. We’re hiring you for your body, not your brains.” Victor pushed back the strands of hair that had fallen onto his face, and sighed.

“All right. I’ll be in Detroit on Monday, ready to work. But tell your Yuuri that he’d better be ready; I won’t be held accountable if he can’t keep up.”

“That sounds perfect. Trust me, you’ll be _very_ pleasantly surprised. I look forward to meeting you in person, Victor Nikiforov.”

“Likewise, Minako.”

“It’s Minako-sensei now! Goodbye!” and with that, she hung up. Victor fell back on the couch, face turned towards the ceiling, and blew his bangs out of his face. Makkachin leapt back onto his lap, and he scratched the poodle’s floppy ears absently. “What have I gotten myself into, Makka?” Still, it was only pair skating, and he was the best figure skater out on the ice today. He was born to make history, be it as an individual or in a pair. _Be prepared, Yuuri Katsuki,_ he thought. Pushing Makkachin off, he headed towards his room to grab his laptop. He had a flight to book and some serious Facebook stalking to do  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a plane is taken to Detroit and people are met. But where's the man of the hour?

Outside the airplane window, the Atlantic ocean glistened a brilliant blue as the sun sank deep into the horizon, staining the clouds pink as it trailed its rays across the sky. Inside, a flute of champagne and a plate of grilled salmon perched on the tray table across from Victor’s spacious seat. There were two to a row, but it turns out that not many people want direct flights from Moscow to Detroit, so he had managed to snag a full row to himself. There was probably more legroom to be found in that small corner of the aircraft than in the entire rest of the plane combined. Still, Victor’s right hand was clamped tightly around the end of the armrest. _God, I hate flying,_ he thought. He’d travelled around the world and back again over the course of his skating career, but even as he gained a following--and the privilege of never having to fly coach again--it never got easier. _It’s OK Victor, you’re going to be fine. Just don’t think about poor Makkachin stuck in the cargo bay with nothing but a bunch of suitcases to keep him company because the_ лохи _who run this airline_ _said he was too big for a plane seat._ He groaned and let his head flop back into the seat, only to spring up again as his hair got caught in something and pulled in an uncomfortable direction. _Damn bun, always getting in the way of everything. The things I do for this sport._

A stewardess made her way up the aisle, collecting dishware as she went. She smiled understandingly at Victor when she saw that the plate was still full despite the meals’ having being passed out almost an hour ago, before adding it to the rest of the mess on her cart and continuing on her way. She left the champagne though (thank God for small miracles). She had asked for an autograph earlier.  _ For my daughter, _ she had said,  _ she’s a skater too. You’re her idol.  _ Idol, idol. What a strange concept that was.  _ I’m not old enough to not be looked after, let alone looked up too, _ he wanted to say. Yet here he was, perched on a thin, thin pedestal, dancing like an angel on a pinhead to please the people lest the fickle winds of their attentions push him off. God, was it exhausting. But of course, he’d just smiled politely and written a note telling Kelly to “follow her dreams!” as though it were as easy as that. It had made the stewardess happy, and life is always easier when you get on the good sides of the people in charge.

_ I wonder if Yuuri is a fan of mine?  _ he thought as he finally felt his stomach settle enough to take a sip of champagne. He grabbed at his phone and with a couple of clicks brought up the now familiar Facebook profile of his future pair partner. He smiled at the cover photo: a shot of three college kids wearing matching facemasks in front of Chateau Frontenac. A quick look at the propic--which featured the same group--had confirmed what Victor suspected when he first found the page.  _ OK Victor, let’s go over this again. The kid in the middle with the fogged up glasses and cute upturned nose is Yuuri Katsuki--with two “u”s, not one! The short, pink-vested girl grabbing him from the right is his old pair partner, with the name that matches...Yuuko!  _ With a giant bag of souvenirs in hand and sunshine in her smile, it was easy to see how she would be a great mother.  _ I wonder how old her kids are. _ The last figure--a tanned, happy-go-lucky kid with a selfie stick--gave Victor pause.  _ Ugh, I know it’s Pi-something. Pierre? Piroj? No... _ “Phichit!” he cried suddenly. He shot an apologetic smile at the glaring couple across the aisle, and went back to his photo. Victor expected to see a lot of these two in the future, judging by the fact that they were both pressing kisses into Yuuri’s blushing cheeks (милый... _ ). _ It was only right to learn their names.

The page itself was incredibly bare; the last update had been from four months ago: a reshared album of pics taken by the Phichit one. Still, Victor adored the pictures; he hadn’t had the chance to go sightseeing after the GPF last year, and the pictures were so incredibly dynamic that it felt like he was being dragged along with the little group of tourists. He flicked through the plethora of selfies (damn, this kid had game) rather quickly then flicked through some more that showed only a pale hand shielding a tuft of black hair from the camera _Aww, look at him pretending to be so shy!_ The next series of photos had shown him the truth though. These candid shots featured the group taking Québec by storm. It looked as though they hadn’t stopped with Old Town. Actually, it seemed like the trio hadn’t stopped at all. There were enough pictures here to fill at least 80 guidebooks. _Phichit must really care about Yuuri,_ he thought as he started scrolling through. Over three quarters of the remaining photos featured solely him. There he was sliding down an ice slide at the Hotel de Glace, sampling everything from poutine to pain au chocolat (the little piggy had great taste), and dancing in the streets during a festival. How Victor wished there was video! He lingered at his favorite photo of the set-- _I still can’t believe he got such a good one while driving a_ dog sled. _Why can’t I get pictures that good standing still?_ It was a shot of Yuuri en traineau, framed by the gorgeous mountainscape behind him. He looked absolutely ridiculous in his giant parka, but his ( _brown, so very brown_ ) eyes...Victor saved the photo to his library. 

_ I wish I’d had the chance to explore last time, _ he thought as he closed out of the app.  _ Maybe we can sightsee together in Sochi.  _ Though he’d be going back to Russia for the next GPF, Victor had a feeling that going home with someone as spontaneous and lively as Yuuri in tow would be like finding a new cache of treasures in a well-traversed archaeological dig. He pulled up YouTube, and began to re-watch the few skating videos of Yuuri he’d been able to find. Though the routines were simple, and his jumps were certainly very weak, each carefully choreographed movement merged seamlessly with Yuuko’s, and became part of a beautiful visual symphony.  _ If he ever decided to join the individual bracket, his PCS would be insane,  _ thought Victor,  _ maybe even better than mine.  _ He couldn’t wait to get back on the ice again. The sound of the crackly overhead system announcing their upcoming landing jolted him out of his reverie. Before the stewardess could say anything, he put his phone away and tightened his seatbelt as far as it would go, only to be jolted again by a stubborn patch of turbulence that refused to let them go. An image of himself flattened against the roof of this Tube of Doom flashed before his eyes.  _ Ladies and gentlemen, this is the story of how I died. _

Victor kept his eyes squeezed shut with as much strength as he could muster as the plane touched down roughly on American soil. As soon as the seat belt sign blinked off, he snagged his gear bag from the overhead compartment and dashed out the door, shouting a thank you to the pilot over his shoulder as he made his tactical retreat.  _ Ok,  _ he thought,  _ so from this gate, to get to the baggage claim I take a left here, and a right after there. The email from the company said the pets would be waiting there. Makkuchka, I’m coming for you--ooooooh.”  _ Victor had honestly never thought he would stand in front of an architectural fixture and think “same”, and yet here he was. For some reason, the corridor connecting the C terminal (where his plane had just landed) to the A terminal (which contained  _ literally everything else _ in this ridiculous airport) was one of the most extravagant hallways he had ever seen. It was _ pulsating with light  _ for God’s sake, and in time to dramatic music no less! Victor wanted to talk to whomever thought this was a good idea and order five, and a small one for Makkachin for good measure.  _ This is going to be awesome.  _ He hopped up on the concourse’s moving handrail and got ready to enjoy the show.

Seven selfies, two separate chewing-outs from various security guards, and a shazam later (he liked the ambient music, OK?), Victor had given up on maintaining any semblance of poise. He nearly knocked over more than a few small children as ran through the terminal like a madman, took the stairs down to the baggage claim at least two at a time, and near sprinted towards the handler surrounded by a menagerie of pets (including a snake, wow!). But where was Makkachin?  _ Did he make it onto the plane OK? What if he’s still in Russia? Oh if  _ anyone _ harmed a single hair on my Makkuchka’s head, I swear they will never find the body-- _

“Oi! Victor~!” He turned towards the familiar voice, and waved. 

“Ah, Minako-sensei! Hi!” There she was, sign reading “Vitya” (he wasn’t going to draw any unnecessary attention to himself, thank you very much) in hand. For some reason she was standing next to  _ Phichit _ of all people, who had been sweet enough to collect his other bags, and-- “Makka!” he cried as dropped his bag and flung himself onto his knees next to his poodle. “Oh, Papa missed you! Were you a good boy for Minako-sensei? Did the big bad airplane hurt you?” He gave Makkachin a good scratching as the poodle licked his face excitedly. 

Minako laughed, and replied, “Don’t worry, Victor. He’s been nothing but an absolute sweetheart since we picked him up.” He stood up in order to address her directly.

“I’m surprised he’s been so well behaved; meeting new people usually gets him quite hyper.” A sudden iPhone camera click drew Victor’s attention back to his second host. Phichit finished typing up something before moving in a little closer.

“Yuuri has a brown poodle like him back at school. He’s a bit smaller than this big ball of fluff, but all the same we knew just what to do to keep him happy, didn’t we boy?” he said, scratching at Makkachin’s ears. He extended a hand to Victor. “I’m Phichit, by the way. Phichit Chulanont. Yuuri wanted to be here, but he had an exam today, so he sent me as a substitute. It’s such an honor to meet you!” Victor smiled and took his hand, shaking it firmly.

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Phichit! You’re in the juniors, right? I must say that lately I’ve become a huge fan of your magnificent photography. I can’t wait to become a fan of your skating as well. What have you been working on?” Phichit beamed with pride at the compliment, but before he could answer Minako’s loud clap broke through the terminal, startling everyone in the baggage claim out of their post-flight stupors.

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road! Everyone, to the taxis!” Phichit practically snapped to attention, body held with perfect graceful posture only a conditioned dancer could replicate and responded,

“Sure thing Minako-sensei! But first, Victor it’s selfie time!” He whipped out his stick and crowded in close to Victor. “Say ‘Victuuri!’”

“Victory!” shouted Victor obligingly. Phichit showed him the pic for his approval, and began muttering to himself about the differences between Amaro and Valencia, whatever those were.  _ It’s nice to see that Yuuri has friends who are so confident in his abilities. _ Although...

“OK, everyone done? Off we go!” cried Minako as she began herding the entire group towards the door. Victor called Makka over from where he was sniffing at an abandoned bag of donut holes as Phichit grabbed his suitcase. One ear-piercingly shrill whistle later, they had snagged a taxi and were on their way to the rink. As Minako barked directions and orders at the driver ( _ No, no, no! Take a left here! A  _ LEFT! _ Oh, now look what you’ve done; we’re caught in rush hour traffic. Don’t you know  _ anything?), and Makkachin plain barked at the unfamiliar surroundings, Victor took the opportunity to more discretely interrogate--ah,  _ question _ Phichit about his connection to Yuuri Katsuki.

“So...how do you know Yuuri?” As far as Victor could tell, Phichit’s grin was omnipresent, but it certainly brightened whenever Yuuri’s name was mentioned.  _ Interesting... _

“Yuuri and I met a while ago, back when he first started training with Ciao Ciao--”  _ Ciao Ciao?  _ “ _ \-- _ sorry, Coach Celestino.”  _ Ah.  _ “He and Yuuko actually trained as individuals for a little while before they figured out that it would be, um,  _ better _ if they skated together in the pairs division, so we had the same training program for a while. He didn’t talk much at first, spent all his time working, working, working. Man, does he have stamina. I’m pretty sure even Chuck Norris would’ve had a hard time facing Yuuri! But anyway, one day, he asked me to help him land his triple toe loop, ‘cause he was wobbly on the exit or something, and the rest is history.”

“You’re pretty close then?” Phichit scoffed, and pulled up a few photos on his phone, swiping through them as he talked.

“Please. Yuuri helped me pick out my precious hamster children--that’s them by the way,  _ ชัยชนะ, ความอดทน,  _ and  _ เป้าหมาย _ \--and I was the first person to whom he introduced Vicchan--look at the cutie!-- when he got him a couple years back. I was the one who force-fed him ice cream and held him when he cried until he got used to Yuuko starting to date Takeshi. So yeah, you could say we’re pretty close.” Hmm, still not clear enough. Victor probed further.

“It must be nice to not have to compete against your best friend.”

“You would think, but competition never really pulled us apart in the first place. If anything, going in separate directions with our careers brought us even closer. Yuuri was my first friend in America for a reason, and what we’ve got going goes beyond skating in every way imaginable. Yuuri and I aren’t going for the same gold, but he still  _ gets me  _ in a way a lot of other people don’t, you know? He’s become very dear to me over the years; haha, I even can’t imagine my life without him! I didn’t get to see him a lot for a while ‘cause of practice though, so I’m excited that we live together in school now!” Черт _.  _ Victor ignored the small sinking feeling in his chest ( _ No, I wasn’t hoping for him to be single, what? _ ), and moved on to another topic.

“So, where did you skate before you started with Celestino?”

“Oh, just a small rink near my house. I didn’t really start skating hard core until I moved here. It was nice to be able to devote ; you’ve gone and made me homesick! Here, come look at these photos of home with me until I feel better.” Phichit was right. Thailand was _beautiful_ (though the lighting in the photos certainly helped matters). Victor added visiting his new rinkmate in his home country to his mental bucket list. The skater turned out to be a phenomenal story teller as well, and soon had Victor in stitches as he recounted tales of his earlier skating mishaps (was it even possible to skate into a tree when you were on a rink?). Victor tried his best to return the favor, and was in the middle of explaining what _really_ went into making a good pirozhok when he found himself wishing for the first time ever that the ride to the ice rink was longer.

All too soon, the taxi pulled up to the skating rink. The ice arena itself was affiliated with the University of Michigan, which was where most of the athletes went to school, but Victor was going to be staying with Minako-sensei for the duration of his stay. She and Phichit left to go drop his luggage off and settle Makkachin in, leaving him and his gear bag standing alone in front of the rink. Taking a deep breath in order to calm his inexplicable nerves, Victor took the first steps into his new life and nearly bumped into someone at the front door.  _ I hope this isn’t an omen of some kind... _

“Ah, Ciao ciao, Victor! Welcome to Detroit! I’m Celestino Cialdani, your coach for the next few months.” Victor shook the offered hand.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Coach Celestino. I look forward to working with you and my new rinkmates.” Celestino smiled upon hearing the polite response.

“I’m glad to see that Yakov wasn’t exaggerating when he was talking about your work ethic. We’ll make record-breaking pair skaters out of you yet! Of course, it helps that you’re already champion material. I hope you’ll consider teaching your future competition a thing or two when you’re not practicing; the juniors would be thrilled by your support. Now come! Let me give you the grand tour.” With that, he made his way inside. Victor following close behind.  _ Thank God this place is empty _ he thought.  _ I would  _ not  _ be able to remember anyone’s names right now.  _ He tuned out Celestino’s lecture as they wandered the rink.  _ Honestly, I’ve lived in a freaking rink since I was five years old and barely able to glide; I know what a locker room entrance looks like. _ He chose instead to stare longingly at the ice.  _ Is it just me, or is American ice a lot shinier than the Russian kind?  _ At any rate, if the rink was trying to seduce him it was certainly succeeding.  _ Soon, my love. Soon... _

“Victor!”  _ Damn. _ He shook the cobwebs out of his brain.

“Sorry! I must have been lost in my thoughts.”

“Hmm, try not to make a habit of it while you’re here. I was asking you what you knew about pair skating.”

“Ah, not much. I never really paid much attention to the ice dancers while I was practicing.”  _ Except for Anya of course, since Georgi wouldn’t shut up about her.  _ One look at Celestino’s face and Victor knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“You do realize that ice dancing and pair skating are two different things.”

“Oh! Yes, yes of course I knew that..”

Celestino huffed impatiently. “Well, fortunately for you the mechanics are not so different from individual skating. There are a few new moves you’ll have to learn, of course, and jumps and spins are a little different, but I think with lots of practice and a capable partner you’ll have them down in no time. Speaking of which, you spin counter-clockwise, right?” An odd question, but certainly one that Victor could answer.

“Yes, I do, why?”

“Perfect, so does Yuuri. That’ll definitely make it easier for you two to gel. Though it wouldn’t have mattered either way, he and Yuuko were a mirror pair.”

“A what?”

“A mirror pair, a pair where the skaters spin and complete their jump rotations in opposite directions.”  _ I really do have a lot to learn.  _ “And how tall are you?”

“5’11’’ exactly.”

“Just as I suspected, you’re taller than Yuuri. We’re probably going to have to have you learn the “male” role, since that will make the most sense physically, but since Yuuri’s grown used to the men’s portion after skating with Yuuko for so long, we may have you switch around a little bit. Are you up to the challenge?” Victor grinned.  _ Screw gender roles; those puny boxes can’t hold all this fabulous. _

“Of course, you can have me however you want me.” he replied with a wink.

Celestino smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re definitely going to be wringing as much out of you as possible before we have to send you back to the wilds of Russia. But as for right now, you are officially one half of the first competitive Russo-Japanese pair. I figured that would be easier than making one of you switch countries: no red tape with the ISF, and no trying to force one of you nationalists to cut ties with your team.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being proud to support your country!” Victor protested. “But don’t worry, I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, at least until Eurovision starts up.” 

“Oh, all the patriotism you can muster won’t help; Italia’s coming for you guys this year. Now get dressed, let’s get you warmed up and practicing before Yuuri gets here.”

“I thought he had class today?”

“He does, but the minute he gets out he’s coming here. Minako and Phichit went to pick him up. What, you thought we weren’t going to introduce you two to each other as soon as we could?” Victor discovered the delightful texture of the rink floor. “Now,  _ vai!  _ Let’s get things started!” After having to be shown the locker rooms again, Victor changed as quickly as he could and started his dryland warm up. Celestino watched, taking an occasional note or two before breaking the silence. “Right, let’s get you on the ice. I want to see your free program in full, with all the bells and whistles.”

“Music too?”

“Music too.” Victor rattled off the name of the song--The Polovtsian Dances, Borodin,--for Celestino to find somewhere as re-tied his hair and pulled on his skates. The new golden blades flashed bright patches of light across the rink.  _ You want bells and whistles, you’ve got them,  _ he thought, taking a few warmup laps before taking position in the center of the ice. Within the overwhelming silence he could practically hear the roaring crowds screaming his name, drowning out any budding thoughts of fear or regret with their thunderous distractions. 

The music began, soft and sweet, but Victor kept his movements firm as he glided effortlessly around the rink, reflecting the hidden depths of the orchestration. He landed his first quad--a toe loop, gotta keep the judges waiting--right as the winds section began to pick up the tempo. _All right Victor, keep things light. Bouncy and playful, like Makkachin, remember?_ Second quad, right as the choir came in. The scratch of his skates mirrored the crash of the cymbals, a surprise attack launched against the audience’s senses. His next jump combo became the very picture of strength and confidence. But as the music slowed down, and he entered a long stretch without any technical elements, Victor found himself focusing less on the piece and more on his foot positioning. _Sharp, clean._ He begins the second half with a spin. _Sharp, clean. Yes._ Around and around with the music he went, movements bombastic and betraying a deep sense of bravado. Around him, the orchestra built in volume--he could feel the audience on its feet-- _almost there!_ One final lengthy spin, and done. Victor finished his free skate routine with a dramatic flourish of a final pose, an exclamation mark on a thrilling battle cry. He finally let his arms drop, panting heavily as beads of sweat dripped down his forehead into his eyes. _Ha! Like Celestino’s going to find anything wrong; I’ve worked this to perfection._

“It’s nice to see that you’re still holding out on your audience, Victor. Some things never change, eh?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Your technical skills are superb, absolutely marvelous” Celestino elaborated, “But you’re not  _ showing _ as much of the song as you could be. I’m glad I asked you to skate for me in person; your attention to detail is doing a good job of covering up some of the spots where there isn’t as much musicality to your step sequences. Not to worry though, Minako-sensei will help you, and your pair partner just so happens to be one of the best performers I’ve had the opportunity to work with. I’m glad Yuuri will actually teach you a thing or two while you’re here, though I expect you to return the favor by showing him how to land his quad salchow.”

“Of course, I look forward to learning many things from Yuuri.” replied Victor, feeling strangely warm as he skated lazily across the rink to where his water bottle was calling his name. His cool down was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Coach Celestino! I’m here!” Victor turned. He could barely see him from where he was, but considering the rink was closed the person at the door  _ had _ to be his new pair partner. Taking his hair out of his bun and finger-combing it a few times, he started skating closer.  _ Quiet now, let’s see what he has to say... _

“Ciao ciao, Yuuri! How was your exam?”

“It actually went well, shockingly. It’s your fault; ever since you told me that today was the day I’d be meeting my new pair partner it’s been hard to think about anything else! And did you hear about Victor? I can’t believe he’s taking a break now, in the middle of his career! What do you think he’s up to?”

“Ah, about that--” Victor took this as his cue and lept into a perfect quad flip, pretending not to notice the new arrival.  _ I hope that looked impressive!  _ he thought, letting his momentum carry him to the edge of the rink where Yuuri had been chatting with his coach. Phichit and Minako-sensei walked in, embroiled in a little conversation of their own. He paid them little notice.

“Oh, hello, Yuuri! I’m Victor Nikiforov. Starting today, I’ll be skating with you for your senior debut. With me by your side, you’re going to take the Grand Prix Final by storm!” he announced with a wink. He reached out for a handshake, only to be greeted with the sound of the front door slamming shut. Phichit and Minako exchanged a concerned look before running after him frantically. Celestino turned to look at Victor, shook his head, and gave voice to what everyone was thinking. 

“Well, that did not go as planned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> лохи-fuckers  
> милый-cute  
> ชัยชนะ-victory  
> ความอดทน-patience  
> เป้าหมาย-goal  
> Черт-damn  
> (again, tell me if I'm wrong!)
> 
> A few things, in chronological order:  
> This fic is indeed a random headcanon dump, how could you tell?  
> The Detroit light tunnel at the metro airport ACTUALLY EXISTS! It's really snazzy, and you should look it up if you're interested.  
> Phichit's hamsters are named after what I feel each podium position represents.  
> Confused about whether Yuuri and Phichit are dating? Good, so's Victor. Clarification is coming, maybe.  
> The song choice for Victor's FS last season was inspired by Nathan Chen, a 17 year old US skater who just blew the competition out of the water with a record setting FIVE QUADS in his free skate in the US nationals. He's the only skater in the world who can land both a quad lutz and a quad flip in competition. *vitya voice* Wow, amazing!  
> A wild Yuuri appeared! Victor used "dazzle with good looks and charm". It was not effective! Yuuri fled from the battle!
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested in helping a gal out, I'm actually looking for a beta. It would be great to have a second pair of eyes on this just to make sure that characters are consistent and true to canon. Pleasepleaseplease let me know if you're willing to help.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thank you so much as well for the support and positive feedback last chapter; I'm so very glad that some people are liking this :D
> 
> Feel free to yell with me about YOI at vktorkatsuki.tumblr.com <3

**Author's Note:**

> Дурак: fool  
> Дa: yes  
> Эй: hey!  
> Oй: Oi!  
> хам: pronounced "kham", twerp
> 
> pleasepleaseplease correct me if I am wrong! Language forums are not nearly as accurate as they could/should be (but are still hopefully a bit better than Google translate?)
> 
> ...so that happened. For the record, this story takes place four years before where canon starts, with Yurio aged up just a tad for his juniors debut. We'll see where things go from here. 
> 
> if you ever want to shout about YOI, feel free to hit me up at vktorkatsuki.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading :D


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